


Cake by the Ocean

by Scrumpadouchus



Series: Star Guardian [3]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Star Guardians (League of Legends), Baking, CDTS-verse, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Date-night, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Mating Press, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Purified Birds, Recovered fic, Romance, Slow Burn, Snow Day, Tickling, Valentines Day Fic, hand holding, post-corruption, post-recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumpadouchus/pseuds/Scrumpadouchus
Summary: Rakan secretly plans a date-night for their anniversary, and Xayah rekindles her fondness for cream desserts.Sequel to 'Cracking Down the Spine' and 'Salty Christmas', though can probably just be read on its own.
Relationships: Rakan/Xayah (League of Legends)
Series: Star Guardian [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577263
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! **This fic takes place about a year and one month after Salty Christmas** , once (spoilers) Rakan has recovered from being a shade but still has issues from time to time. Both of them do; since dying, being revived under a great evil's control, then breaking free of that is a big ordeal to overcome, I would imagine. Brings a lot of baggage to unpack. But it's okay, cause they've got each other. <3.
> 
> Rated for future chapters. This first chapter is just a short prologue to whet the appetite. Please enjoy!

The first snowfall of the season. The old house is not well insulated - over the years it has gotten damaged and drafty. Rakan knows he built the place years ago, factually, _logically_ , but something is wrong. He cannot recall the construction, and his hands shake too much to be able to fix it. He wanders a moment, checking the windows and pulling the drapes, shrouding the kitchen and hall from the outside. He pauses a moment, fingers gripping the drawstring of the last set of blinds, and when he tries to remember why he's closing the curtains he draws a blank. Aimlessly he drops the string and wanders back into the living room, following the thread-thin thrum that calls to him there. 

Xayah is curled up on the mat in front of the fireplace. His mind focuses from its cloudiness at the sight of her. _Oh. That's why_. It's not surprising. _In the end, everything is for Xayah_. 

He used up too much energy earlier maybe, dealing with the younger guardians who had briefly visited. He's not sure how long it had been - _just one hour, or four_? - but he feels like a gas tank with limited fuel. Once drained it leaves him in this half-present state, more useless than usual. 

"Love?" He wanders back and joins where Xayah is sitting, curled up under an extra blanket. _She was cold. That's why I closed the drapes. To help with the draft_ . He waits a moment, trying to remember what he had been trying to do previous, but he's spinning a wheel with no results. 

She's still shivering. He bristles and pulls her over. She is heavier than she used to be, it makes him briefly warm with a slight pride. _She's getting better. Slowly. Someday. Someday_. 

He kisses the top of her head and pulls her against him onto his lap. She settles and pushes herself further into the embrace, her thin nightgown riding up. She refuses to wear fleece even when cold-shock can send her into catatonia; she always claimed she couldn't feel him through the thick fabric and that that was worse. A strange rationale, but he understands it in a distant way. 

Rakan nudges her, fingers shaking as he tries to undo the ties of her night gown. They slip on the satin, fumbling on the knots. Another thing that hasn't returned quite the same. Xayah makes a sleepy sound at the back of her throat before leaning back and undoing the double knotted bow herself and the buttons of the upper shirt. Once undone it's slipped off and discarded dangerously close to the fire. Bare, he drapes the blanket around the back of her. 

"You - " She mumbles against him. "You too." 

Rakan doesn't hesitate, pulling off his t-shirt and letting Xayah rest back against his skin. 

"We should go lay down." He coaxes, a hand idly rubbing over her front, then reaching around to run from nape to coccyx. _Ever since we started being... intimate again, she has been more tired_ . Even when she napped through the earlier visit from their sisters it was not enough. 

He picks her up and brings her a few steps to the couch, then spreads out with her squished half under him onto the cushions, the blanket tossed over his back. 

_I need to buy Xayah flowers_ . The thought comes abruptly and randomly. Maybe he'd write it on his arm and both hands just to make sure he doesn't forget. _Something pretty and sweet like her. Daisies? Sunflowers? Before, one of her favourites was baby's breath_ ... 

He traces over her skin with his fingertips, marvelling at the softness. It always felt new to him, even though they have been together for over a decade. Rakan doesn't mind having a patchy memory if it always felt like this, every single time. 

Underneath him was safest for her to be, tucked into his side under his wing and blankets. He rumbles a deep note in his chest, and this time when Xayah shivers it isn't from a chill. Small, slender hands grip his back, squeezing him plainly. He never understood why she liked his deep purrs - still doesn't - but it makes his heart skip in a pleasant, warm way. 

_Miella is so cute and doesn't even know it_ . He traces over the perimeter of the large old scar on her upper abdomen. It healed jagged, but faded to pale white by now. _Old_. He reminds himself as his eyes prickle.

_She is here, and I have her_. 


	2. Chocolate Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xayah and Rakan go shopping, then come home and warm up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I've written my fav pair of bird-fox-griffins, even for SG universe, so I hope I'm not too rusty. Also, to my three lovelies who commented last chapter -and to all the familiar names who gave kudos - thank you so much for your support <3 <3 <3 You've heard it all before, but it both makes my week, and really gives me the kick in the butt to keep writing. This would never be possible without you.
> 
> And yes I am weak for flower meanings. 
> 
> As always, if you need a refresher on star guardian lore, myself and my dear friend Idolbirdswitharms made this google slideshow to catch everyone up on the content, quick and easy. <3 If you're interested, please check out this link! (Just remove the space after https:) https: //docs.google.com/presentation/d/1wOsPnr7JBUufQcMteBl_5FwX4pBS0XnfrIqmA-mFRWE/edit#slide=id.p1

  


-=-=-==-=-=-=-=- 

The smudged blue ink greets his hands. _Meilla + flowers_. _Easy enough to understand_. Xayah still is asleep and hugging a body pillow in their bed. Rakan feels his heart flutter, imagining how _easy_ it would be to return back under the covers with her... but he pulls himself away. _Later. After_. Rakan turns back to pull the comforter up and snug about Xayah's half-curled form, then slips into their ensuite bathroom. Showering is still strange alone, but he hurries through the motions, searching on his phone for nearby flower shops in one hand while towelling his hair with the other. 

The closest store is an hours walk away, according to his phone's map app. Leaving his hair down, Rakan slides on a heavy turtleneck, and black slacks before wrapping his feet and casting one last longing look towards Xayah. _This is for her. I want her to feel special_. 

He manages to get down the house's stairs without too much creaking, and pulls on a black woolen beanie down over his ears as an afterthought before unlocking their front door and creeping outside. 

There is still frost on the sidewalk. For early in the morning, there is not much traffic on the road or otherwise, though he can't recall if it's a weekend or not. The city is eerie when silent, and Rakan walks with his back hunched. He could try to fly, but the effort tired him out monumentally, and more often than not a wing would spasm or he'd lose his balance and crash. 

_Things were different than before. And they are different from what they were_ . Rakan loses himself in the clouds a moment, watching a sole grey wisp crawl across the sky. _Supposed to be snow more tonight_? Cold air burns his nostrils as he breathes. 

There is a strip-mall across the street from him. Rakan racks his brain for any items they needed for the kitchen, but comes up short. _Flowers first_. He reminds himself. _Snacks after_. 

It's been many years since he's made a run like this. What meanings could he remember for an arrangement? Xayah had always liked whatever he brought for her, but he didn't want to settle for something plain. Something big and _bright and warm_ , to light up this grey day, to communicate the colours in his heart when he thinks of her. 

_Roses are cliché. Tulips don't match the season. A sunflower maybe. I could look it up_ . Rakan pats his pocket, feels for his phone but finds nothing, his ribs growing tight. _I must have left it in the bathroom_. He sighs, breath condensing into white fog and floating away. _I'll just have to guess_. 

Flowers have meanings, but he's not familiar enough with the ones here to remember all their stories. On his original planet - home planet - he knew all the songs of each flower and the story behind each. But that was a far, far way from here. 

He crosses two cross-walks without checking the road first. _Roses. Daisies. Pansies_. He can picture a few others but cannot recall their names. _A big bouquet, one that can't even fit in the door! But will it be too heavy to carry back? Or wilt too quick in the cold... Maybe this was a bad idea_ . 

Slowly the area is transitioning from residential to commercial. At the junction of the next intersection he sees a small shop modelled after a Dutch cottage. A small decorative windmill stands on the lawn in front of the store, the sign next to it cheerfully declaring; _We Bloom For You_! In sunshine-yellow letters. 

Rakan triple-checks his pockets for his wallet, feels the lump in his jeans pocket, and with a sigh of relief he enters the store. A tiny bell tingles as he steps inside. An older woman with a grey bun, thick maroon sweater and green apron looks up from behind the counter. 

"Good morning." She bows slightly. Rakan finds his tongue lagging. 

The room is a tsunami of scents and colours. Not much warmer than the outside: there are tables of pots and vases, racks of tools and seeds, and shelves of potting soil and fertilisers. Near the back wall there are refrigerators filled with prearranged bouquets and cuttings of loose flowers. He swallows. 

"G-good morning." 

He's not used to being out alone around other people still. Almost always he's with another guardian, not because they didn't trust him, but since that incident a few months ago - 

Rakan tugs his hat down over his ears further. _It'll be okay. I'll be quick_. 

"Can I help you with anything?" The shopkeeper is now at his side, peering up at him curiously, her face is crinkled with wrinkles and a smile. 

"I want some flowers. Please." Rakan looks over towards the fridge. 

"What occasion? Wedding, birthday?" She winks. "Proposal?" 

Something in his face must have coloured, because she nods sagely and marches towards the fridge at top speed. "I've just the thing!" 

She slides open both fridge doors, and grabs a plastic bouquet sleeve from a box next to the fridge. Faster than Rakan could blink she has the transparent cone lined with greenery and plain leaves, with a generous splash of baby's breath, before looking back at him. 

"The base." She says as explanation. "Now, what is your focus flower? What does your girl like?" 

He blanks. _Xayah always says she doesn't like flowers, but she loves it whenever I bring them to her_ . All he can picture is a star-flower, soft and blue and glows lightly in the dark, but that's not a bloom that can be found anywhere even close to here. 

"Sun flowers." He finally says. 

"Unconventional. We don't keep many of those in stock." She steps into the fridge, starts peeking into the water-flooded baskets. There's a stool inside for her to check the upper-most shelves of stock. 

"Aha!" She pulls the large flower out of an upper basket. The thick stem is sheared with a quick pass of scissors and then she has it placed into the bouquet sleeve. "What next?" 

There are dozens of different flowers in the fridge, all blurring together into a haze of delicate fragrance and rainbow petals. Rakan points to another basket. The worker pulls out a large-cone shaped flower with sloping, large petals. 

"White lillies. It can work." She puts three into the bouquet. The sunflower is the only splash of colour so far. Rakan points to a stem of bell-shaped pink blooms, and some purple six-petaled blossoms. 

"What are those?" 

"Crocus and Foxglove." She says. "They are a bitter-sweet flower. Do you still want them?" 

Rakan nods, and she pads out more space in the sleeve with a few sprigs of each. 

"Any others?" 

"Daisies?" Rakan offers. The woman takes a few orange and pink blooms and places them into the bouquet. It now is almost over-filling the sleeve, stems pushed tight at the bottom to burst out through the top. She coils a few rubber bands about the bottom to keep their shape, then tucks a few packets of plant food into the sleeve before walking back over to the counter. The bouquet is further wrapped with more sparkly plastic wrapping loosely hooded over the top of the sleeve, closing them off from outside air. 

"Cut them on a slant and put them in a good vase with room temperature water. Mix in one of those plant food packets a week, okay sweetie?" She ties a thin yellow bow around the stems to hide the rubber bands. "That will be fifty dollars." 

Rakan pulls out the worn leather wallet, pulls out a straight fifty-dollar bill and slides it over to the woman. Ahri with her mysterious fortune had given them more money they knew what to do with, on a weekly stipend. It was always in cash form, tax free, untraceable. 

His tail twitches uncomfortably where its tucked into his pants leg as he watches her place the bill in the cash register. 

There are tiny stuffed animals on a table near the counter, judging by their small shape and ability to stick their paws together, they were meant to go into a bouquet or hug the cluster of stems. He picks up a fluffy bear with white fringe on its ears, grey fur, white belly and black nose. "This too, please." 

The worker takes the plush from him, snaps then re-snaps the stuffie's paws together so it's hugging the stems. _Must be..._ he searches a moment for the word; _...magnets inside the paws_. 

"That'll be another twelve dollars dear." She says. Rakan hands her a twenty from the wallet, then takes the flowers and walks away before she could even change the bill in the register. 

The air is still, and the snow has yet to start. _The flowers should make it_. Rakan tries to walk a little faster. A few minutes in his lungs burn with the cold. He stops at the first crosswalk, coughing first and forcing deep breaths until the spasming settles. 

Somebody driving past honks the horn, and he jumps, almost dropping the bouquet. His face immediately smarts hotly, and he looks at his feet _. I stand out, carrying this so far. Maybe I should have flown after all..._ Though the speed of flying would likely have damaged the flowers. 

_How long has it been_ ? He can't remember the time he left. He looks at his wrist as some sort of phantom reaction, though he doesn't think he's worn a watch since before Zoe - 

Rakan bites his cheek and stops that thought. Then pats over his pockets again, but only finding the solid rectangle of the stuffed wallet. _Oh yeah. I forgot my phone. I had_... 

He looks back at the flowers in his arms. 

_I hope I get home before Xayah wakes up. Maybe hide the flowers for her to find? In the shower. On top of the dryer, or in the closet. No. Bad spots. What would I do if it was before_ ? He cradles the blooms as he walks, leaning over them whenever the breeze picks up. 

Another couple is walking together across the street locked arm in arm, bundled in knee-length jackets and thick scarves, they push a pram together stuffed with so many blankets Rakan can't tell if it's a baby or a puppy nestled within. Something tugs deep inside, and he turns back away. 

_Someday_ . Not all of their hopes had to burn into smoke, after all. From the ashes, what grows back is stronger. He remembered this much from his childhood and the forests at his home, his _true_ home. _A long time ago. How long_? He'd have to ask Xayah the years. Things got fuzzy, still. Sometimes. That was okay, too. Sometimes he thinks of the stories he's forgotten and it always leaves him feeling hollow for a few minutes, only to sweep away again to a more dull acceptance. _There are always more stories to learn. To create._

The housing gradually gets less dense, spacing more and more generous as he starts the route uphill. The mostly-renovated home stands alone, shrouded in a copse of mature trees and a tall fence, more additions Ahri had generously bankrolled and added for their privacy. 

He steps up to their front door, turns the knob and pushes in. It sticks a second then releases, and he half stumbles into the porch. Rakan opens the closet first and gently lays the bouquet on the floor there before plucking off his thin beanie, even if to keep it a surprise a few minutes longer. 

All the lights are on. He hears a voice in the kitchen, hoarse and harried; 

"Wait, I just heard - " 

Xayah peeks out through the arch. Her hair is messy, eyes red and tired looking with her phone pressed against her ear. 

"Never mind. He's here. He just came back. I'm okay - I'll text you later." Before tapping the thing off and running down the hallway towards him. She collides with him with a solid _ooomph_ , her body not much warmer than his own despite having been inside all morning. 

"...Miella?" He tries to speak, but the sensation of her cold hands sliding under his turtleneck sweater is stealing his words. 

Xayah hides her face in his sweater. 

"Where did you go?" She turns her check to rest against him, her nails digging against his skin. "I thought you - your phone, it was left, and your gem! I thought..." Her voice wobbles, and she sniffs. 

"I thought you were gone." 

Rakan stays quiet, going still in her clutch. Had he forgotten his gem, too? Before the thing had felt like an integral part of him, he couldn't imagine leaving it anymore more than a few feet from himself. But now a days there was some separation between the two. It always felt better when it was in her hands, pressed close to her heart. 

"I'm sorry." He tucks her in under his chin, stroking over her ears with two fingers. The feathers there are downy, soft and healthy. "I wanted to surprise you." 

Xayah pulls back, rubs over her face with her over-sized sleeve. "What?" 

Rakan slides open the closet door, leans over and procures the bouquet, holding it out to her. 

"Happy anniversary." When she doesn't react for a few seconds, his ears drop low. "...I think it's our anniversary, right? Months were different on that planet, but... " 

Some things were cloudy to him, but that he would never forget. The first snow of the season, on that green planet at the end of the galaxy; _that first kiss, that slow dance_... 

Xayah sobs, tears run down her face before she blinks and scrubs at her face with her palms. She takes the flowers from him with a forced poise. 

"Yu-yeah. It is." 

She unclips the bear and laughs through her tears. 

"So cute. It's so cute." She wipes across her face again. " - Sorry, sorry, I..." 

Rakan bites his lip. 

"I'm sorry I forgot my phone." 

"That's okay, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions." Xayah sniffles once more, then takes his hand. "I just - I love you." 

Rakan's ears perk back up. "I love you too." He echoes back, twines their fingers together. "The lady at the store said..." He takes a moment to think back; the thick floral aromas of the store, the tap of the woman's nails on the counter, the bright pink of her pen's ink on the inventory sheet. "The plant food is once a week. Once they're in the, um." He cannot place the word, so he goes with one that feels similar enough. "A big cup." 

Xayah smiles at him like she knows, but she doesn't correct him and for that he's thankful. 

"Thank you Mieli. They're beautiful." 

_So are you_ \- he thinks immediately, though the cliché-ness of the line doesn't make it any less true. 

Xayah kisses the cheek of the little bear. "One for him, and one for you." She stands up on her tippy-toes and tugs at his sweater until he leans down. Her lips are soft as a marshmallow as they peck against his cheek quickly. 

"C'mon. Let's find a place for these." Xayah leads him by the hand into the kitchen where she opens the cupboard under the sink. Rummages amongst the cleaning supplies, then pulls out a tall, flared jar-like object made of purple glass. 

"I'm surprised it's still in one piece." Xayah stands back up and rinses it off in the sink first before filling it two-thirds full with water. Plucking the packet of plant food out of the bouquet, she tears it open and pours it into the large cup before stirring it liberally with a metal straw. 

The stems are much longer than the jar; Xayah summons a star feather-dagger with a twist of her wrist and slices a few inches off the stems with a single stroke, then gently places the flowers inside. 

"Perfect." She croons, then looks back to him. "Lean over." 

Rakan does so immediately, and she gives him another peck, this time on the lips. 

"Thank you again honey. You’re so sweet." 

His tail starts to twitch out of his control, rustling happily against his pantleg. It takes a beat to quell it back to calmness. 

"I need to get ready, then can we make a quick run to the shop? I know you were just out, but it'll be fast. I want to grab things before the storm hits." She places the flowers at the centre of their kitchen table. Rakan just nods; going out was always easier when Xayah was there. 

She heads upstairs, Rakan hears the shower turn on and busies himself with pacing the hall aimlessly until he hears the water stop and the squeak of the shower door opening from the upper floor. A few minutes more and Xayah is standing atop the stairs, hair dry and pulled into a messy bun. She's wearing her doubly padded grey leggings and a wool dress with what looks like a black turtleneck poking through underneath it. 

In the porch she pulls on another sweater, then a jacket and a thick pair of socks before shoving them into a pair of boots two sizes too large - the only type that would fit their feet - then ends it off with a fur hat and woolen gloves. 

Clothing ritual complete, she turns her attention onto Rakan. 

"Is that all you're wearing?" She pokes a finger through his thin turtleneck. "Won't you be cold?" 

"It's what I wore earlier." Rakan replies. Just the sweater and the hat had been enough, though the wind had picked up on his walk home. "I'll be okay." He couldn't tell temperatures very well, another side effect of... everything. His ears flick down a moment. 

Xayah huffs and crosses her arms. "Not fair. No gloves? My hands are always cold." She looks at him hopefully. "Can you keep them warm?" 

"I don't think our hands will both fit." Rakan takes the blue mittens offered to him anyway, and stretches them slightly before slipping them on. Xayah zones in, shucks off her own glove and shoves her hand into his like a snake striking a mouse. She does manage to arrange her hand so their fingers are laced together, and though the mitten bulges in a strange way it is more than do-able. 

She stuffs her extra glove in her pocket. "See? It works. It works great." 

Rakan laughs. "Yes! I should not have doubted you love." He opens the door for her with his free hand and she leads the way out the front door of their home. 

They squint against the wind as they walk down their driveway, past the gate and onto the sidewalk. 

It doesn't take long before she is leaning into him, using his bigger body as a breaker against the wind. 

"There's supposed to be a storm tonight." Xayah says. "Lux texted me about it. She's inviting everyone over to her place just in case." 

"Another sleepover?" Rakan had only attended the one, but Lulu had sewn him a onesie and braided his hair, and they had all made double chocolate chip cookies after, so he wouldn't call it a bad experience. 

"Just in case. It's supposed to be a big one, apparently." Xayah frowns. "I think she's just using it as an excuse to get me and Ahri talking again." 

"Ahri didn't go to the last one." Rakan remembers Sarah being there, and the red gem had tried making forced conversation while smelling distinctly uncomfortable before giving up and leaving the get together just two-hours in. 

"Even if she isn't there, tonight is for us." Xayah squeezes the hand attached to hers in the mitten. "I want it to just be about you and me. Not us as star guardians, or our group as friends, just... us." 

She looks at her feet, the sentiment still too gooey for her to tolerate, but her face showed it all _. She enjoys spending time with me alone still_... Rakan squeezes back doubly hard. This didn't feel so hard to believe as it used to. 

"It'll be nice." Rakan murmurs down to her, and Xayah looks up from the sidewalk. 

"Thank-you." 

They are properly in the residential area now, the suburban homes in a repeating mix of whites, tans and browns, most driveways empty during the most common work hours. The sky above is fully clouded over, their shadows hardly showing up against the pavement. 

The strip mile edges in the view. A small bakery is part of the line, a small supermarket right next to it. _What were we getting? Maybe I can sneak chocolate into the cart_. Xayah was not the best cook, but she followed directions, and her food was edible, if not a bit bland. Her baking however is something else altogether. 

The double doors of the store slide open and hit them with a gush of warm air. Xayah shudders at the change, and takes a few seconds to pull out of his mitten and gravitate towards the pile of shopping carts lined up in the corner. Rakan waits, the blaring music of some decades old pop song playing over the loudspeaker. 

Xayah starts off down the right-most aisle, and Rakan drifts after, gaze straying to the posters and screaming advertisements in eye-popping colours. There were loud orange SALE signs in blocky black lettering propped up against many different displays. Xayah avoids the fruits and vegetables section, as well as that of the meat, and instead takes a beeline to the baking section of the store. 

She plops a bag of flour into the cart, as well as a cuboid plastic container with a blue lid. Rakan squints down at the label. Baking powder. 

Xayah puts a tin of cocoa powder too, along with some chocolate chips and brown sugar. 

"Desert for supper??" He pokes at the bag of sugar before Xayah swats his hand away. 

"For our cake." She mumbles. "We can bake it together." She stretches on her tip toes but can't reach the sprinkles on the top shelf. Rakan swipes the container of heart-shaped sprinkles with ease and passes it to her. "Thank you honey." 

Rakan lets himself get dragged to the refrigerating section, watching Xayah pick up several cartons of milk, one of eggs, and one of orange juice before deciding she'd gotten her fill. Rakan stares at the many shelves and shiny wrappers, and finally grabs a silver foil block off a lower shelf and placing it carefully into the chart. 

"Salted butter. Thanks, I knew I was forgetting something." Xayah resumes walking ahead of him, and Rakan smiles. 

An hour-glass shaped woman with a neat ponytail checks them out, the rhythmic beeping of the checkouts ping-ponging in his head. When Xayah nudges him he looks back and sees their goods have already been paid for and loaded into two reusable shopping bags. Rakan automatically reaches to take both but Xayah snatches one of them before he can. 

"We each take one. It's only fair." She insists. Rakan opens his mouth to argue, but she's already racing towards the store exit. He follows and finds her standing in front of the store, cheeks lightly flushed from the temperature change. 

"I can take them both Xayah, it's okay." 

Xayah smiles tightly, her eyes crinkling. "If you did, we couldn't do this \- " and wiggles her bare hand once again into his mitten. Once their fingers are trussed again she huffs satisfactorily, and gives his arm a tug. "Come on!! We've got a cake to bake." 

The sky has clouded over significantly since they’ve been inside the store. 

"Can we board up the windows?" Xayah asks just as the first few flakes begin to fall. She swings the grocery bag on her arm like an oversized purse. "I don't want any star-baby breaking in again to check on us." She pouts. 

"It's sweet. They're worrying about us. I think." 

"They don't have to. We're eons older than them. They're _basically_ infants." 

"We can go hide away then, where they won't find us. Not even the first star will know." 

Xayah's voice is softer this time. 

"That'd be nice. A cabin somewhere with you. Where it's nice and green..." Her hum fades off into comfortable silence. 

The snow transitions into thick, heavy flakes dropping to pad out the world around them. The wind is howling louder than before, and Rakan hunches his shoulders, pulling Xayah in to walk more behind him. She does so without complaint. Her fingers on his in the mitten are cold. 

It is falling in clumps, Rakan having to blink to keep the melting flakes out of his eyes. The sidewalk is quickly becoming slippery, but he digs his feet in through his foot wrappings and keeps going strong. _Xayah is depending on me_. 

Neither of them bother to speak as they pass a small corner store and continue into the streets of their old neighbourhood. 

Seeing their house in the distance gives him such relief he forgets the stinging wind a moment. 

"Doing okay?" He asks softly, looking back and down. Xayah nods mutely, her face is pale as the falling snow, half hidden behind her scarf. 

They head up their driveway, the footprints behind them showing two of Xayah's strides to every one of his. They continue up onto the front porch. Rakan sets down the shopping bag on a section of porch with no snow before trying the door. 

"Miella do you have the keys?" He asks and turns back. 

Xayah is shivering, gaze blankly fixed at the door, zoned out into her own world. 

"Honey?" Rakan softly nudges her. She flinches, blinking back with her focus suddenly jumping back to him. 

"Ss-sorry." She drops her bag of groceries and digs in her pocket, then passing the keyring to him. "Here." 

He pushes the key into the lock. It took effort to push inside, but then would not turn. Rakan removes the key and tries reinserting, but the same issue prevailed. _Our lock is broken? It was working earlier_. He doesn't know much about locks, but he does know that if he can't get the door open in two minutes he wouldn't be adverse to breaking it down by force. 

A gale blustered through, splattering them with the wet snow. Rakan breathes warm breath onto the key, and tries again. 

"Careful. The kuh-key can break." Xayah stammers out, teeth chattering. 

"If it breaks, I'll just break a window to get in." He reassures her. They could also go to Lux's place and call a lock smith but with the weather he expects they would take a long time - if they even attempted to visit at all. 

This time the lock is stiff, but he manages to turn the key all the way. Pushing open the front door, he ushers Xayah in first before grabbing both shopping bags and bringing them into the foyer, slamming the door shut behind them. 

He shucks off his jacket and drops Xayah's hand in order to discard both mittens. Tossing his hat onto the mudroom's bench, he plucks off Xayah's as well and throws it to join his. 

Clear enough, her fingers are stiff, having difficulty with the zipper on her coat. The second she unzips it he slides it up and off her shoulders like a fancy chauffeur, hanging it on a coat-hook. She lethargically kicks off her boots, and he retakes her hand in order to lead her into the den. It's like ice against his. 

"Shall I draw you a bath? That'll warm you up quick." Rakan throws a log into their fireplace, watches the flames begin to lick up the wood. That was their usual strategy for raising her temperature. 

"No. I w-want your body." She tugs on his sleeve. "To warm me." She adds, just to make it clear. 

Rakan turns back to her _. She's so lovey today_. He opens his arms and let her fall into them, her hands sliding up and under his sweater, her body pressing forward hoping to siphon everything she could. 

He sits down and takes her with him to a spot in front of the fire. 

"We can put our cushions and blankets on the floor. Take a nice nap." He hums into her hair, hugging her so tight he's surprised she is tolerating it. 

"... After." She mumbles back. "While the cake is cooling." 

_Cake? Oh yes. The stuff from the store_ . They had left both bags out in the foyer, leaving the butter, eggs and milk to warm to room temperature. 

"Hmm. You sure you're not going to fall asleep now?" He trails his fingers over her scalp, scratching lightly, fondly smiling down at her. 

"Mnm." She replies back, her eyes still closed. "M'sure. Jus' five minutes." 

He doesn't count the minutes, watches the fire flicker as he strokes over Xayah's hair, her upper back. By the time he focuses back onto himself, he’s not sure how much time has passed, however his mate has not moved. _She's still and quiet. Definitely asleep_. 

Rakan yawns in sympathy, looks back towards the hall, then over to the chesterfield. An early afternoon nap sounds so tempting; he could create a nest for them easy, curl up for a couple of hours. 

Then Xayah's stomach growls; Rakan kisses the top of her head. _If the weather is supposed to get worse, then we should cook now in case the power goes_ . He doesn't have much faith in the old house's ability to stay powered. They had strong winds a few months ago that had knocked out the grid in their area for almost two days. 

He stands, bringing Xayah with him bridal style. _I don't need Xayah to cook. She looks so tired... maybe I can start the cake on my own_ . He could bring her to the couch and lay some blankets on her or leave her in front of the fire. 

_But she wanted me to stay with her_ . Rakan briefly gnaws his cheek. _Can I carry her and bake at the same time_? 

No. He knows it would be impossible. 

Rakan gently places her onto the chesterfield, picks up the two throw blankets - one woolen, one fleece - and drapes them both over her. 

_She looks so peaceful. So beautiful_ . His chest is warm as he gazes at her; _she is mine, and I am hers so long as she desires me_. Things still aren't the same, but his love is a living, animalistic thing. He wants to hold her forever in the same vein as wanting to swallow her gem, take her in whole and never part from her sight. Rakan swallows, tongue tingling at the memory of it, and turns away. 

He wanders back out to the porch, takes both grocery bags into the kitchen. 

The ingredients are now room temperature as he unpacks them from their bags. _Are they still safe to eat? Must be_. He shrugs and leaves them on the kitchen island. Rakan's not sure how long eggs can be left out of the fridge, but it was all that they had so it would have to do. 

He digs through their drawers, looking for a cookbook. He finds an old water-stained one in the bottom most drawer, and flicks through the crusty pages looking for a cake recipe. On the forty-first page there's a recipe for plain chocolate cake. The page itself has dried smudges of what he assumes is melted chocolate. 

Rakan squints down at the recipe. 

_1 cup of sugar_ . 

Next to the quantity someone has written ( _1/2 w, 1/2b_ ). He goes to their cupboard, grabs a large white bowl and places it on the kitchen island. _What next? A cup. Measuring cup_. He looks in the upper cupboard where all their drinking glasses are, then down in their cutlery drawer, and the larger-implements drawer that is underneath. 

_How much is a cup really_ ? He doubles back to the first cupboard and takes a small drinking glass from the shelf, then a spoon and fork from the top drawer and returns to the kitchen island. 

The bag of white sugar is in the pantry. He uses the cup as a scoop and takes one cup-full from the bag and pours it into the bowl first. He smiles. 

_Perfect! Next_ ... he checks the list. _1/2 cup of butter softened. That's easy_. 

He takes a small square of butter from the fridge, pre-wrapped in half-cup squares. Places it in a bowl and sticks it in the microwave. 

_How long until it's softened? One minute? Two_ ? If he was trying to reheat leftovers, he'd usually reheat them for three minutes to get them steaming and tongue-burningly hot. So definitely less than three minutes. 

There were other squares in the fridge, so if he got it wrong there'd be other chances. 

Rakan sets the microwave to one minute and a half, then presses start. 

Next on the list is three eggs. Rakan plucks one from the carton, and a butter-knife from the drawer. _Three eggs is easier than softened butter_. 

He holds the egg over the bowl and holds out the knife. It He lines it up, pulls his arm back --- 

-the egg slips out between his fingers, drops into the pile of sugar in the deep bowl. He fishes it back out and tries again. The knife is quivering in his hand, his fingers keep losing their grip. 

Second try; he strikes the side of the egg, leaving a thin crack. He sets down the knife and tries to pull the egg apart with just his thumbs. Too soft, he isn't applying enough pressure. He pushes in just a bit harder- 

_-crack_ . The egg shell shatters into pieces, the runny yolk and white flowing down his clenched fingers to land in the bed of sugar, tiny pieces of shell mixed in with the goo. 

The microwave is continuing to hum off to the side. Rakan can hear sizzling. 

_Time for one more egg then_ . He picks up the second egg, holds it out, then - 

-the egg pops out of his hand, slippery with the yolk of the predecessor. He flicks down the knife and it strikes his thumb. Rakan squeaks at the impact and drops the knife; inspects the thumb carefully. Luckily the butterknife has no real edge to it, he might as well be using a blunt weapon to crack the eggs. After several seconds there is still no blood welling from where he'd struck himself. 

The microwave beeps; the light in its window flipping off. _Good, the butter is ready!_

Rakan opens the microwave door; a pillar of smoke erupts from inside, dispersing quick into the now hazy air of the kitchen. He coughs, waves his hands in front of the bowl. Eventually the smoke begins to ease off, and he reaches in to grab the butter. 

He lifts out the bowl with both hands; steam continues to faintly curl from the dark brown crisp inside. Rakan faintly notes the tips of his fingers are reddening. 

_I burnt it. One minute and a half was too much_ . He notes sadly. Then returns to the fridge and pulls out a second square of butter. He pulls off the paper wrapper and drops it into the bowl, then returns it to the microwave. 

_One minute this time_ . 

Rakan opens the carton of eggs once more, took a new egg out. This time he ignores the knife and holds the egg out over the counter. 

Just a little tap. Enough to crack it, and then open it over the bowl. It would be easy. Or easier than using the knife too. 

Rakan holds the egg in his left hand, stares menacingly down at the counter. 

_Just a light tap_ , he reminds himself before saying aloud; "You can do it Rakan. Just a quick flick!" 

He swings his arm down. The egg explodes into a million pieces, white and yolk squirting out and streaking onto his sweater, all over his hand and across the kitchen island. 

"Ah." He looks at the mess disappointedly, not quite sure what he had expected otherwise. 

The microwave beeps once more. Rakan can hear the sizzling of the butter, but this time cannot smell smoke. He pops open the door; there is plumes of steam rising, but no smoke. At least something is going right. He picks the bowl up with his fingertips, turns back to the island. The rim slips through his yolky fingers. 

Rakan swipes at air, trying to grab any part of the china; his nails hit the bottom of the bowl with a ting, and it shatters upon the floor with a high-pitched shattering. Browned, bubbling butter with black crumbs splashes onto the tile floor. 

_She definitely heard that_ . He hears footsteps starting in the hallway, and drops to his knees and starts hastily trying to scoop the shards of the china into his palm. He dumps one handful into the garbage and is attempting to get a second handful when he hears Xayah gasp. His eyes stare resolutely at the floor, his neck going hot. 

"Mieli? What are you doing?" 

Rakan doesn't move until a cold hand gently slides over his shoulder, and he tentatively gazes up. Xayah is hugging the blanket around herself, eyes puffy and bloodshot. 

"I was trying to... cake." He says, tongue feeling tied in a knot, heart feeling much the same. Xayah tugs up at his turtleneck, and he unsteadily returns to his feet. 

"Your hands, love." Xayah leads him over to the garbage and brushes the glass from between his cupped palms. Lifts them up to the light and gently turns them under a scrutinizing gaze. A big cut runs across his left palm, while smaller slices on his fingers of both hands. The fingertips of both are seared red and dry. She tuts and walks with him to the sink. 

He washes his hands in cold water; Xayah pats them dry with a dish towel, then brings them back up closer to her lips. She kisses his fingertips before dropping them back down. 

"Let me bandage them. Stay here." Xayah ducks out of the kitchen, dashing up the stairs. Rakan waits, his tail beating anxiously against his pantleg, when she flies back down the stairs two at a time, small first aid-kit in her hands. 

She rips a tiny square open, pulls out a small swab soaked with a brown liquid. His nose crinkles at its strangely musky smell. Xayah paints it over each of his cuts, blowing air apologetically over them to match the sting. He can't feel much of her attentions but appreciates the gesture all the same. 

The tiny crock of vaseline is opened, and she smears it over each of the red marks on his fingertips before taking out a roll of gauze and wrapping it over the majority of both hands, tying them each with a tiny bow. 

She bows her head and presses another short kiss to each fingertip. 

"There. All better." 

Xayah fishes several paper towels off the dowel and drops onto her knees, wiping up the mixture of butter and tiny glass shards on the floor. Rakan takes cautious steps about the kitchen, keeping an eye for the glint of china. 

"I think that's everything." Xayah finally says, chucking the balled-up wad of paper towel into the garbage. "You didn't have to start without me, love. I want us to bake this together." 

"Sorry for... waking you. Up. That is." He stammers, cursing his thick tongue. _She's not mad. Why am I nervous_? Xayah only smiles, her eyes crinkling with some deep sadness. 

"I woke up soon after you got up. I couldn't feel the heat, I missed you." 

Rakan's hands curl inward. 

"I'm sorry." 

"No no love, don't be sorry." Xayah shakes her head, presses forward against his front. She unwraps her blanket to hold it up for him. Rakan takes it and wraps it over her, hugging her back into place. Her body melts like the butter under him, molding to his form once more. 

"You keep me warm. I'll help with the baking." Xayah starts bopping about the kitchen, turning on the oven and taking a new bowl out from the corner cupboard. She takes a large cup with red printed lines on the side, and returns to the kitchen island. 

Rakan slides his arms under hers, hugging around her midsection while resting his chin at the top of her head. She squirms after a few seconds, and he walks with her to the fridge where she grabs another square of butter, unwraps it, and places the bare cube in another bowl before returning it to the microwave once again. 

"Be careful." Rakan says. "That part's tricky." 

Xayah programs the microwave for fifteen-seconds and presses start. 

They both watch the rotated bowl until the microwave beeps, and Xayah fearlessly pops the bowl out. Rakan sniffs; it's not smoking, not brown or bubbling. Xayah pokes the wet-looking square of yellow with her pinky, it sinks in easily. 

"Perfect. Softened just enough." She says. She flips the bowl upside down and it drops out of the small bowl and into the mixing one with a _splat_. 

Xayah's movements are like a whirlwind- she's reaching and placing ingredients left and right, scoops more sugar out in the lined-cup and dumps that too into the mixing bowl. 

She plucks another egg from the carton; she cracks them on the rim of the bowl, pulls them open and drops their contents onto the sugar. _One. Two. Three_. Rakan hums as she stirs the sugar mixture, watching the fork go round and round, scraping the sides of the bowl. 

"Honey can you add some vanilla?" Xayah inclines her head towards the small black bottle. 

He picks it up slowly, checks the label just in case. _Pure vanilla extract_. He carefully unscrews the cap. A sweet aroma wafts up, tickling his nose. _Smells a little like Xayah_. His tail starts to wag. 

"Just a splash." Xayah instructs as she continues to stir the batter. He slowly tilts the bottle, pours a small amount into the mixture, before placing it carefully back onto the counter. 

"Thank you, sweetie. C'mere." Xayah tilts her head up; Rakan leans down and she gives him a light peck on the lips. 

Similarly she stirs in flour, coffee, cocoa powder and two spoons of the blue tub's baking powder. She stirs until the batter has no further lumps, and continues even after. The oven beeps. She places down the bowl and digs under the stove for some pans. 

"Mieli can you stir the batter while I prepare the pan?" 

She reaches her arm fully into the drawer, pulling out a few round tins and inspecting them before placing them to the side. 

Rakan picks up the fork and continues scraping the batter as Xayah had done. Eventually she exclaims _aha_! and triumphantly holds up two round cake pans. 

She scrapes some butter off the microwave bowl and greases both cake pans, tossing a spattering of flour and spreading it over the greased sections before declaring it done. 

Xayah takes one side of the mixing bowl while Rakan takes the other. Together they pour out the batter quasi-equally into the two round tins, then Xayah places both in the oven. 

"Forty minutes, and I'll check them." She sets the timer on the stove, then again on her phone. 

"What now?" Rakan bends over her body, content to stand with her, half hugging in front of the oven the full forty minutes if she requested. 

"Are you hungry?" She asks instead, pulling out her phone again. "We should order something in before it gets too bad outside. What do you want? Noodles? Chicken?" She scrolls through options on an app on her phone. 

"Ice cream?" Rakan remembers the tasty tub they had delivered to their door once. Between them it had only lasted a few hours. 

"Noooo, not for lunch. Or supper. Let's at least _pretend_ we're trying to eat properly." Xayah continues to tap at the screen. "How about pizza?" 

His tongue tingles. Rakan sucks in a cheek. "Sounds good." 

"Peppers, mushrooms, bacon. Both cheeses. Right?" She asks like she doesn't already know the order, taps it in with her thumbs. "Okay, done. It'll take about an hour." 

"What do you want to do now?" Rakan looks out the window. The snow is still falling with heavy flakes, the wind continuing to pick up. 

Xayah laughs and tugs on his wrist, pulling him back into the present. 

"I can think of something..." She picks up the empty bowl of batter. Then she swivels her pointer finger against the concave inside, then lifts up her batter-covered finger up towards him like some kind of offering. 

Rakan takes her full finger into his mouth and licks until its clean. Xayah pulls it back out of his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Is it good?" She asks, then swiping a finger-full of batter for herself and pops it into her own mouth. 

Rakan only nods. 

Leaving the pile of dirty dishes behind, he trails after Xayah back into the den, where he sees her strip the couches of their pillows and throwing them into a heap on the floor. Rakan heads upstairs for extra ammo; grabs another pillow from their bed and several blankets from the linen closet before returning and handing them to Xayah. _She knows how she likes things. If I try she'll just rearrange the nest until it's her way._

True to history, she fluffs the pillows and places blankets in a way that somehow manages to seem both haphazard and strategic. _Another one of my love's talents_. Rakan beams. 

She then flops over in the very center of all the sheets, though not making any move to pull them over herself. Lifting a single finger, she beckons him forward. 

Rakan is in a thrall; all that matters is here, this moment, this room. He steps into the nest and drops down over her, squishing her down into the pillows with a quiet _oooph_. The blankets too he pulls over them after, trapping them inside like a folded burrito. 

He closes his eyes and sinks willingly into the dark to the sound of the fire crackling and Xayah's breathing. She smells fresh, vanilla from the cake, some sweet floral from her soap. Lips to her neck; she doesn't taste like vanilla, unfortunately. His chest rumbles and then she's squeezing him hard, hugging him back in the swath of blankets. 

He digs in; kisses her shoulder, both cheeks while she giggles and bats him away. 

"'Kan." She purrs, her plump lips parting. "You can kiss better than that." 

Rakan stares, the cogs in his head stalling and grinding to a halt. _So beautiful. So lovely_. He does as she bids, taking her lips and kissing, _once, twice, four times, five_ \- 

_She is delicious, she is beautiful, she is everything_ . He moves to lie propped on his side and rests Xayah against his bottom arm, his right one cupping the side of her face while she holds onto him. 

Slowly they intertwine, her legs tangling with his while she always tries to draw closer, nearer with every kiss. Xayah is all droopy relaxation, hardly strong enough to free herself from the mass of pillows and his affections. He finally pulls away, breaths laboured, and she strokes through his hair with thin fingers. 

"Are you warm enough now Miella?" He bumps his nose against hers. She chuckles and turns her head away. 

"Mhn, no, but I've got an idea." 

Xayah wiggles in the cocoon they've trapped themselves in, kicking off her indoor feet wraps, then in the cramped space attempts to shimmy off her fleece lined leggings. 

"What's your idea?" Rakan sits up to give her more space. Xayah shucks the leggings completely off and kicks them into a tiny, crumpled heap lost somewhere amongst their bedding. 

"You get more heat with skin-to-skin contact. I read it in a book once." She says while moving onto her wool dress, pulling that off as well as the cotton turtleneck underneath it. 

"Is that.... so?" Rakan watches the pale cream of her upper body's skin get revealed; the white scar running like a jagged bolt down her abdomen. 

"We can test it for ourselves." Xayah throws this bundle of clothes onto the couch. "Want to join me?" 

There may have been a flirty, smart response brewing for that, but all Rakan can think about now is how plush and magenta Xayah's lips look as she pouts at him. He flicks off his own sweater and t-shirt, yanking down his pants immediately and leaving himself in just his boxers. 

Xayah giggles. _It's better than music_. He drops back over her with bated breath, nuzzling into her neck. 

"Honey~" She purrs, her tone as sweet as the word. "Can you help with my bralette?" 

She arches up her back and he slips his hands behind her, trying to undo the clasps. He feels his fingers slip on the hooks, and his back prickles. He tries again, but his fingers are not cooperating and he manages to undo only one hook before they twitch and drop the fabric. Rakan frowns. 

Xayah tugs on his neck, pulls him down for a sweet, slow smooch. When she pulls away miraculously the bralette is off, black lace somehow defeated without his knowing. She does a little wiggle, and his gaze drops lower. 

Her nips are perked up, flushed a rosy pink. Rakan's mouth waters. He cups one carefully, it sinks under his hand. 

_So soft_ . His brain goes fuzzy, stuffed with comparisons of clouds and cotton. _Have they always looked so cute and pretty_? 

Like soft mounds of marshmallow fluff. Or warm balls of sweet dough. A low-strength stress-ball. He takes his other hand up to join the first, and gently kneads the spongy flesh. 

"Are these cold too?" He flicks one of her nipples with his thumb. Xayah mewls and turns her head into the pillow a few seconds. 

Rakan sinks back down, tracing his nose up from her belly button before diverting to the right. He rubs his cheek over the modest breast there first, then kisses over her rosy areola. 

He looks up. Xayah's face is red as a strawberry. Rakan swallows the drool collecting under his tongue. 

_My mouth is pretty warm_ . Surely that was a good enough reason. His lips part, and he stares down at the small pink bud. _Poking up shyly like its saying hello_. 

Runs his tongue over it once. Not much of an effect, he's not sure what he expected. Another peek up at Xayah shows her covering her face with her hands. _Maybe it needs more work_. 

Rakan presses his face flat to her chest, nose digging in happily to the soft boob fat. 

It's a firm, spongy bud against his tongue. He prods against it, sucks in his cheeks to apply a small amount of pressure. _I don't want to hurt her. She's sensitive. Start low go slow._ He reminds himself. 

In the past he could just as easy pin her to the ground and suck hickies over every inch of her while she squeals, but that hunger was a dangerous thing to indulge. His newly-restored flame was not nearly so aggressive; lending more to worship than to conquering. Sometimes he worries she misses his more aggressive persona, but she's never complained and he has no choice but to believe her. 

He sighs and gives her a slightly harder suck, catching her teat between his lips and giving it a slight squeeze before lifting up. Xayah gasps; Rakan drops blankets back over them like a shroud, and returns to kneading her. She's puffed up now, swollen and perky. 

"They're so perfect." He likes their small size, no matter what Xayah always commented. "So pretty." 

"They're too small." Xayah mumbles out from under her hands, still refusing to look out at him. Rakan frowns. 

In the past Xayah had felt self-conscious about them, though it still is unbelievable to him. After meeting their other teammates she had taken to covertly stuffing her bra - though it wasn't nearly enough to compete with the likes of Sarah and Ahri. Rakan never cared; _I prefer them small anyway_. 

"Do I have to prove how much I love them?" He places his palms over her breasts and tries to smooch them together to meet in the middle, rubbing around in large circles. Bows his head, and dips down to hover an inch away from her left boob. 

"I didn't forget about you~" He croons. Kisses it briefly over the target-like centre, then opens his mouth to take her in. Xayah's thighs squeeze him where they're wrapped about his waist. 

"Mieli, y-you're playing around." She squeals. 

"....and?" He gives her a playful nip, and she drops her hand to lightly bonk him on the head. 

"- And it's mean." She puffs out her lips. Rakan stops a moment, gaze leaping to her mouth. _I can kiss her_. _Why am I down here when I can kiss her_? It seems almost absurd. 

He tilts up, close enough to just graze her - 

A shrill beep from the kitchen. 

Rakan flinches off her while his hand slips on the blankets, sending him to the floor with a yelp. Xayah groans, hides her head under the quilt. 

"What is it? What was that?" Rakan pushes free and stands, ears swivelling. It didn't sound like the doorbell. Or his phone's ringtone. _Fire alarm? Burglar alarm? Do we even have one of those_? 

"The cake is done." Xayah explains, her words muffled from the sheets. 

_Cake? What ... Oh yeah_ . He inhales; now that she mentions it, he can smell cocoa and sugar in the air. 

"I'll get it." 

Rakan lumbers out of the room, his tail poking out from his boxers and stretching as he returns to the kitchen. He swipes a towel from the rack near the sink and opens the oven, releasing a cloud of steam and a flood of chocolatey aroma. He pads his hands with the towel and removes the cake, then lays it on the wire rack on the counter. 

It looks done, but it's hard to tell with chocolate cake. He takes a heavy sniff; heavenly. _Will it be good_? 

"Is it done baking?" Xayah calls from the den. Rakan must have hesitated too long, because she follows up with; "Stick a knife in the middle and see if it's wet." 

Rakan riffles in their cutlery drawer and pulls out a clean butter knife. It slides it down into the cake, then withdraws. It is dry; not even a crumb on the knife-blade. 

"It's done!" He calls back triumphantly. 

He leaves the cake to cool and begins walking back to the den. He gets to the archway of the room. Xayah's face peeks out amongst a tiny break in the blankets, the rest of her is completely covered. For a moment he sees her body shiver under the layers. 

"Did you turn off the oven?" She asks; Rakan blinks. 

"Ah... be right back." 

He sprints back to the kitchen, and presses the off button on their convection oven. The light flicks off with a soft beep. 

Rakan spots a small cardboard tube on the kitchen island, next to Xayah's purse. He picks it up. Her lip-balm. _This one smells like cherry_. His tail starts to wag. He pulls off the top, the rich red stick inside is only half used. He daintily sticks out the tip of his tongue and lips the top. 

_Doesn't taste like cherry_ . He can't help but be disappointed. _It doesn't taste as it smells but it always stains her lips just as good as a lipstick_ . He thinks a moment, then lifts the tube to his lips. Applies the balm generously and without care. It doesn't matter if it's neat; it'll serve the same purpose. 

He returns to the den. _Time to test my plan_. He kneels down back at Xayah's side and kisses one of her round cheeks where it's exposed amongst the blanket nest. When he pulls back there's a big red kiss mark where his lips had been. 

Xayah's nose wiggles. 

"I smell cherry." She suddenly focuses on him. "Did you put on my lip balm?" 

"Hm. What if I did?" Rakan kisses the opposite cheek. Twin smooch marks now greet him like a permanent blush. 

He smooches both of her clavicles, then the top of her sternum. Trailing over, one smooch to the top of each breast. Red marks stamped down to every side of her belly, each hip, five to the scar on her belly, and two each to her inner thigh. By then he's mostly run out of staining power; each kiss now is barely a smudge of red colour. 

"Out of paint?" Her legs are spread as far as she can get them. 

Rakan sinks down, nuzzles against her soft lower abdomen, his neck at level with her thighs. 

She's still in her underwear, purple boy shorts with black polka dots. Maybe it's the dim or his imagination, but the gusset seems damp already. He sniffs, then grins; hooks his thumbs under the waistband of the thin fabric and yanks the whole article down while Xayah squeals in delight. 

"This was my plan." He replies, and pushes his lips to her mons, breath tickling the downy feathers there as he places several more kisses. Xayah's breath hitches; he feels her belly clench as her legs wiggle, then draw in closer around his ears. 

_She's so excited_ \- he can smell her arousal, wet, glistening, ready to taste. Rakan licks his lips. He's so _hungry_ , why had he waited so long? He leans forward, trembling with anticipation. 

  


The doorbell rings. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it seems like it's cut weirdly, it's cause I didn't want to post this thing as a 20,000 word one-shot, so I broke it up into parts. Hope you don't hate me too much for it. Next chapter definitely deserves the E rating. 
> 
> Feel free to request what you want to see, btw. I'm always open to ideas/inspiration.


	3. Vanilla Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birds are interrupted, then continue where they left off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to Yuna21 who pretty much commented exactly what would happen with the poor pizza guy xD I suppose I'm just that predictable ~ 
> 
> Just like last time, I figured rather than make everyone wait longer for their smut I'd do a cut, post it now and have this thing end with chapter four. 
> 
> It's been a while since I've posted bird-smut so I'm a bit shy but... I hope you enjoy! <3 

  
\----------------

_…Xayah sits up immediately_ , her knees jabbing Rakan on both sides of his head. 

" _The pizza_!" She says in a hush, as if the delivery person could hear them. "I completely forgot." 

Rakan withdraws from the blanket nest, rubbing at his ears. 

"I'll get it. You stay there and stay warm for me." He rolls back his shoulders, tries to ignore the tightness in his boxers. He adjusts his waistband, hoping it'd give the illusion of more bagginess -it doesn't help. 

"W-wait!!" Xayah squeaks. "Here!" She gestures to the couch, where her own small purse lay. Rakan dashes over, plucks out her wallet, then kisses her on the top of her blanket-covered-head as he saunters back to the foyer. 

He opens the door and has to squint against the blowing snow that gushes against his face. There's a bright red truck in the driveway with a large pizza logo on its side. A figure more-coat-than-man stands on their front porch, only visible part of him the strip of his eyes. 

"One.... piz... extra... sausage?" He asks, the grey scarf muffles most of his words. Rakan just nods. In the end, pizza was pizza even if they got the order wrong. 

"That comes.... thirty.... and twenty-two cents. Cash.... ard?" 

Rakan looks back over his shoulder; but Xayah is unfortunately not in the hall shadowing this encounter. He shifts from foot to foot, then pulls out a full hundred-dollar bill and passes it to the delivery man, taking back the pizza immediately after with the other and placing the box vertically under his armpit. 

"That should be enough." He looks pointedly over towards the truck in their driveway. "Thank... um, you. Goodbye." 

The man's eyes bulge as he looks at the crumpled bill in his hand. 

"Sir--!" He starts, but Rakan shuts the door immediately, pulls over the chain lock and turns the deadbolt. 

_A job well done_ . His tail flicks up and down, feathers spreading out. _I'm doing really well today_. He can almost picture the proud smile on Xayah's face - under the blankets, of course. He brings the box in to the den and places it onto the coffee table. 

"Honey~" Xayah drops the blankets down and holds her arms out wide. Rakan immediately forgets about the pizza entirely and the cake cooling in the kitchen. He dives forward like a torpedo and falls into her arms, knocking her flat onto her back. 

"Underwear, off." She hooks up her knee and catches the waistband of his boxers with her hallux, then drags them down. Rakan shimmies in place, allows them to be removed and tossed across the room to land on the couch. Xayah sweeps the blankets back around him and pulls him down like a fisherman netting his catch, and Rakan finds himself squished against her plushy front. 

"You worked so hard today, you've done so good." She murmurs, kisses his forehead while her nails trace lines down over his scalp. Her cheek rubs against each of his temples, then she scratches under his ears until they floof up, and she nibbles on one absently. 

_She's scenting me_ . Rakan's heart picks up, starts to pound like a drum in his chest. _Is she in...?_

He sniffs again; his sense of smell isduller than it used to be, but… she is irresistible. The memory of it is undeniable _._

_It’s been so long._

He dives in to join her dance, brushing the corner of his mouth down to each side of her neck, below each of her fluffy ears, then back to her face. The bright cherry kiss mark on her cheek looks _delectable_ , but Rakan returns to her lips, plump as summer raspberries. He kisses in, sucks on her tongue, driving her back into the pillows. 

He can feel the expectation, this heavy instinctual urge driving him close and needy _. Xayah probably doesn't even realise it yet herself_. He mulls. _She is still confused by her moods since being cured_. 

"Are you hungry?" He backs away from her mouth, and Xayah sticks out her lip, saddened at her plaything being taken away. He presses his mouth to her again, pulling forth a few deep, voracious kisses before she replies, breathless, with; 

"Not for pizza." 

Rakan nods. He can understand the feeling. It makes his stomach do a mixture of dropping and fluttering, like a bag full of butterflies on a _... what was the name_? His forehead creases. It was escaping him. 

"Miella, what's the word for... uh." He can picture it, bright tents, greasy smells, creaking machines and exhilarated screams. "The big ride. Goes fast. Up and down." 

She blinks, somewhat coming out of her daze. "Huh?" 

"Mhm, never mind." 

He sinks one last kiss to her sweet lips, then retraces his journey marked earlier by the lip balm, disappearing below the sheets. _She smells wonderful_. Like cherries and honey and green apple. Rakan's head swims with it. Here in the warm cocoon, the improvised nest, it would just be them. Should have always just been them. 

Her legs snap open as he approaches, an oyster eagerly displaying its pearl. Rakan holds his breath. The soft down of her mons tickles his nose, and he breathes out in a short huff. No more distractions, no more outside influences. _This was theirs_. He places his mouth on her without further hesitation and closes his eyes. Her sex trembles and twitches under him before he even moves. 

_She tastes exquisite_ . He puts his tongue to her clit, careful when enveloping her. The thighs over his shoulders squeeze in, smooshing his ears tight to his head. Her voice is muddled to him now but she still cries his name clearly enough. 

Fingers probe next, he strokes around her folds in a slow two-fingered movement. They’re slick and warm to his fingertips. His tongue drops; he tastes here too, though even gentler than above. The curtains part, and he is acquainted with the depth of her. He desires _more_ , to take all that she can offer. He pulls away then and returns with softly probing digits, returning to tongue her clit while he curls and spreads his fingers inside her. 

Pressure to each side of his head; Xayah’s thighs squeeze around his ears, then abruptly releasing as she juts up her pelvis, pushing her groin into his face. The skin of her lower abdomen is pulled tight, the pulse throbbing, the muscle wound taut and dense. 

Rakan has to hold one of her hips to stop her from wiggling away. She can hardly speak as her body arches up; 

"- _Kan_!!!" 

He pushes against her walls with his trained fingers, presses down with his chin. Warmth rushes forward down his digits to pool in his palm; Xayah’s legs spasm, her thighs compress him for a final, breathless squeeze, then she goes limp. Rakan licks his lips, draws back from between her legs and cautiously peeks up across her abdomen, wiping slick off his face with the back of his hand. 

_Had she passed out_ ? 

“Miella?” He crawls back up through the bedding to lay beside her. Xayah’s eyes are closed, he would almost think her asleep if not for the fact that she is still minutely trembling, her body twitchy and oversensitive. He pulls her towards himself and she does not resist, her legs shakily opening in instinctive response to his presence. “Was I good?” 

She hugs him, kissing his lips and leading him back over on top of her. 

“Yes. You are wonderful.” She hums his praises, presses another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you honey…” 

She is still having trouble finding her words in between catching her breath. Rakan licks his lips again; he can still taste her upon them. Xayah finds his hand and leads it up to her face, where she kisses his knuckles before lacing their fingers together. Everything about her now is soft. Her eyes are liquid sapphires, droopy and half-lidded as if to conceal their inner wealth. 

_She is beautiful, she is everything_ . His heart thuds in his chest, his gaze narrowing. 

“...Thank you for being with me.” She says quietly. 

Rakan doesn’t understand it. He is already hers, doesn't she know? All he could hope for is be good enough for her to be his in return. _We have swapped gems, swapped rings, swapped promises. Long ago, and now_ . _Always_. 

"You treat me so good -" Her breath is hot against his clavicle. "What do you want to do now?" 

The answer flashes immediately in his mind’s eye, electric-quick, sending a shiver down his very spine. _Xayah on her back, spread and welcoming_. Her skin flashing warmth where he touches, her face flushed red, body covered in love-bites and lip-smacker - he could already feel it, _taste_ it, his fingers curling in to tap his palm. 

" -Make love!" He stumbles, then he feels his cheeks burn. When he speaks again it's slightly meeker. "I want to. I-if you do, of course." 

"I would love to." She kisses his neck, rubs her nose back and forth on him in a moon kiss. She strokes down his arm, her fingertips halting once she gently takes his hand. "Do you want to lead?" 

His breath catches in his throat. He nods, sharply and shortly. A smile spreads across her red lips. 

Then she waits. He can see the very stars themselves in her eyes. 

The fireplace crackles as he moves, and then Xayah is under him. She unfurls for him once more and he settles there - she is still slick from where he serviced her, and he had almost forgotten his own pleasure. He is heavy, weighted down. There is this urge, circling and waiting at the door like a hungry wolf. 

He dips his left hand between them, spreads her and slips inside, The tight warmth sucks him in eagerly. There's a tremor he feels briefly then, from deep inside her, a slight _twinge_ and then a _relaxation._

Xayah cants her head back and makes the most beautiful moan, her toes curling tight, as if he needs to be enticed further. He shifts in position and holds her more firmly in place. Abruptly his hips snap forward; Xayah makes a high-pitched _peep_ sound, her body drawing in to cling to him. 

His rhythm stops, his ears flicking up and slightly outwards. _Was that...?_ He tries another sharp thrust; the sound again, a short, high pitched whine that cuts off quickly. 

_It is_ . He can't stop the grin from cracking free, his heart feeling as though it was swelling from the utter fondness that welled in his chest. _So so cute... I love her, so much_. 

His next movement makes all of the bedding jerk forward a few inches on the floor, scooting them both closer to the leather armchair. He digs his fingers in hard enough at her hips to leave tiny red marks and puts more weight on her to stop their position from migrating further. Xayah makes a small sound that felt a lot like a non-verbal hurry up; but he nips her neck and after a single indignant squeak she quietens back down. 

He was controlling the pace tonight. He would decide how to take her. 

Rakan ponders a second, wrestling with indecision. _Something was missing_ , he just didn't know what. He closed his eyes a moment; attempted to visualise what it is he wanted. 

Her legs are spread to either side of him, each thigh hugging his hip as he’s sheathed to hilt within her. He shakes his head, then lifts both her legs up, gently repositioning so they rested on his shoulders - nearly forcing Xayah to fold in half as he settles back atop her. Her rear arches up to meet him as they meet chest-to-chest with moderate ease. Xayah makes another peep, her eyes squeezing shut. Even with them both staying still her breaths come fast. Some of his earlier bravado quickly ebbs. 

“…Is this okay? It feels good?” Rakan asks. 

Xayah immediately nods. 

“Are you sure?” He repeats again, wanting to be absolutely certain. He cannot remember the last time he had taken her this way, surely she could find it painful or uncomfortable to be stretched in such an odd position. 

“Just … go already!” She tosses her head back against the bedding. His eyes jump to the smooch mark on her neck, and he swallows. 

She is slick and balmy, when Rakan moves in her again he meets no resistance. He slips his right arm up behind Xayah's shoulders so to better hold her close, then he buries himself in full on his first thrust. Drawing back until the head pops out; a tease of emptiness before retreating back into her warmth. After the first few thrusts he re-establishes a rhythm, and Xayah resumes her chirps on the zenith of each dip, flush pinker than her hair spreading from ear to ear. 

Rakan is _burning_. He fishes for her hand and grabs it like a life raft, a secure pillar to ground them both. Her fingers briefly squeeze his in return, and his heart skips a beat, his pace stuttering a moment. Her face is still wound tight, beautiful blue eyes left closed while she is stuck whining against the pillows. Rakan can't form a proper thought, this desperation had him famished, his only coherent want a litany of _Xayah, Xayah, Xayah_ – 

He presses down slightly more on her legs, hears the breath he forced out, feels the slight difference in angle where they are joined and sinks a small bit deeper... Then abruptness. There is a resistance, a spongy yet firm wall, and his brain stalls a second before he realises he's met the end of her canal. 

Xayah practically sobs, a breathy _please_ gasping out when he strikes up against it once more. Her free hand drops from its spot on his shoulder to grasp the blankets. 

_She likes it_ . The thought makes something deep in his gut coil excitedly. Again and again, he pushes deep, then draws back, only to dive forward once more. He is continuous, inevitable; he sinks into her with abandon, her cries as he touches the true depth of her are the only thing he can hear. 

_I want her to feel better than she's ever felt_ , he thinks. Rakan feels drunk with it; the sound of her pleasure, her heady scent, the warmth of her bodies in the heavy blankets. He squeezes her hand as he dips once more. 

They are one and the same, one body, one soul. He has never needed anything other than her, now and for the rest of time. 

Something has started to drag: a weighted throbbing worsening each time he moves. Desperately he thrusts down into Xayah, trying not to slow his pace while she is this close. He jerks his hips in hard, brings up short and she keens, crying his name now between breathless gasps, faster and _faster_. The feeling grows in him, stronger and possessive - he is a wave, growing and growing, then abruptly _crashing_. 

Rakan surrenders to the soaring, exhilarating rush of pleasure, the bubbling _snap_ that surges through his entire being and makes him see stars as he spills inside. He squishes her hard to him to ride out the euphoria, though the position makes it difficult to do so. He doubts he will ever be able to let her go ever again. 

Xayah’s legs spasm where they rest on his shoulders, her body draws taut while her nails dig into the back of his hand. She tightens too where Rakan is sheathed in her, and he groans as the wet heat there bears down on him in two long pulls before fully relaxing. Sensitive and soaked, every second or so he can feel her canal lightly twitching. 

Her rear is still arched up towards him, his weight keeping her pinned. He shakes his head, his brain felt stuffed with warm, sparkling star-dust. 

“Let me – “ He is breathless, helps her legs down from his shoulders, lets them rest down over his thighs instead before he leans back down upon her. It’s closer to a proper lovers embrace though it still gives him leverage. He kisses her sweetly, nips her lower lip, then presses back once again. One to each cheek, then her lips once again. He will choke otherwise, this flood of affection would make him explode. 

Something rises in him once again, electricity setting his body to a constant pulsing. Rakan falters a moment, but Xayah hugs him needily, and he flicks to focus on her. Her eyes are still closed, swollen mouth parted, her breathing still heavy... His heart skips and he lazily rocks back down into her, tucking his face into Xayah's neck. 

She chirps once more to his great satisfaction, her eyes fluttering open halfway to look at him curiously. _Did I surprise her_? Rakan feels his face burn. "Sorry Miella. I couldn't resist." 

"I'll forgive you. Just -mnm... just keep..." Her fingers dig into his back as she rubs herself against him, the point of their joining pressing from side to side. "I feel so _good_ ~" her words are a half-moan, her whole body squeezing around him at the end _._ She’s a tight, clinging sheath, keeping him deep. His cock is laden, attempting to pull out of her meets immediate resistance, though it sends a pleasurable throb through him to try. 

Rakan’s breaths are catching; the pounding pulse in his groin grows, pressing until it’s unbearably tight. _Forward_ , he tiredly thrusts in again until he is stopped; and cannot stop himself from rolling his hips, stroking the depth of her with the tip of him. 

“ _Yes_ –“ The word sounds as a sigh, Xayah cresting in satisfaction. He makes a rumble in his chest, and continues his lazy thrusts. 

A sparkling-snap in his gut, low-burning but constant, he is chasing it with each ministration, each struggle to pull free from her. It stretches, grows, and then he is awash with that pleasure from before but in smaller, more frequent waves. It is not enough to make him freeze still but enough for him to not even imagine being able to stop. 

Almost too soon her hips jerk up once again, Xayah mewling as her jolt is buffeted by his bigger body, keeping her still some-what pinned. Her stomach quivers like jelly; he can see the muscles there rapidly clenching and relaxing, again and again and _again_. Rakan isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad sign. _Is it too much for her_? 

Rakan stills a minute and reaches to cup her cheek. She blinks and focuses to him, pressing her cheek into his hand. 

Then he leans down and takes her lips. She still tastes like cherry and chocolate. 

“Are you okay love?” He asks between kisses, pulling slightly at her bottom lip each time he briefly breaks away. 

Xayah only nods, weighted breaths tumble raggedly from her slack mouth. 

_One skin, one heart_ , _one gem_. He brushes the corner of his mouth against her temple, sneaking another long smooch as Xayah whines. Her mouth is his, their lips separate then meet again, again and again. He pushes down with his body, securing her body with his weight while his tongue bats against hers. 

Then Rakan shifts, slides his hands behind her back; she is cupped here, her light torso braced on his forearms, her thighs hitched up over his own thighs. That swelling, pleasant _pulsing_ feeling once more; his hips jut down while he pulls her up to meet him. 

He hears her sharp intake of breath… _and then_ – 

-Her cries are _resplendent_ ; Rakan intercepts her to take another kiss. It is docile, but she manages to weakly reciprocate. 

"Mhn, Kan - " She says as he breaks away. Her heels scrabble against his back, then dig in. “Something is different. I - I think you're - " 

She cuts off abruptly when he lazily nibbles at her left ear, inhaling deeply at the base of the feathers there before placing a kiss on top the fluff. Xayah turns her head, ears twitching, and he chuckles but moves his mouth from her ears. They were sensitive, but he couldn’t help himself. Then Xayah tries again, voice quavering. “I think you’re knotted in me. I can feel it.” 

“Oh.” He simply says. His mind blanks _. Didn’t she like this_? Suddenly he is not so sure. Something cold makes its home in his stomach, and it drags him back out of the pleasurable clouds. 

“Sorry Xayah. Let me – I can try to – “ He draws up slightly onto his elbows, eyebrows furrowing. He can hardly believe it. It’d been so long since he last performed that particular sexual feat. Years and years ago, when he was _unspoiled_. But sure enough, he attempts to pull out of his lover and – he is snagged, the base of him hitching and holding tight. The back of his neck goes rigid; he tries to pull out once again, catches, and Xayah keens, her form clutching onto him. 

“N-no!! No it’s okay. I…like how it feels.” She mumbles. Her skin is flushing redder than the cherry lip-balm. “I’m warm. _Inside_. And I – “ He feels her clench down on him, only holding it for a moment. She bites her lip and turns her face into the pillows. 

His ears flick. 

_Really_ ? 

The knot in his gut untwists, spinning like a top. Looking down; the muscles around her belly button are spasming, tightening then smoothing over in sporadic tremors. He places his hand over her lower stomach, rubs a small semi-circle then presses _down_. Xayah peeps, her thighs squeezing about him. He feels the pressure himself, but it surely must be different for her. Kneading in gently, he pushes again on the firm expanse below her belly button. _Again, but louder_. 

“-‘Kan! Not yet!” She squeaks. 

_Not yet_ ? 

He ponders a second, but then his face flushes hot. _Of course_. At least he had not forgotten _that_. Both hands move from her stomach as he looks for another spot to occupy himself. Her nipples are pebbles, pink rosebuds poking up into the space between them. Immediately it occurs to him that he would like to taste them once more. His fingers brush over the silky skin of her sides as he makes his way up and she jolts, her whole body twisting taut, then loosening; not expecting the tickle. Rakan halts his ascent. She’s stuck where they are tethered, and her twitching only serves to aggravate their connection. A mischievous smile spreads across his face, and he does it again. Tears are beading her eyes as he tickles her, her body racking with laughter. 

“Sto – stop it!!” She squeals, her hands jerking up to clasp his, pushing him away from her sensitive flanks. He laughs too, in partial sympathy, partially due to how cute she looked breathless and tousled. He holds both her hands a moment, giving them both a few seconds to calm down. 

“Sorry Meilla.” He briefly squeezes her hands, then frees their fingers and moves his palms back up to her breasts in apology. Xayah is still trying to catch her breath, but moans, her voice raw. 

He brushes his thumbs over them - _texture so velvety yet smooth_ \- then squeezes them with the web between his fingers. 

Xayah squirms, chest arching up, stuck against him, an entire chorus of beautiful sounds fumbling from her lips, her entire body tinted a hue of rose. Her sheath milking him, quavering in sensitivity. _Her lips_ , once again; they draw him in like a magnet. _A plump, sweet-tasting gift_. He lowers himself back a little flatter atop her. Rearranging arms and limbs so they can lie entwined still, but lets her legs relax down from where they were propped over his thighs until they are flat on the blankets. They remain stuck together to neither’s complaint. He rocks down against her while another pulse bubbles through him, pressing plush kisses to her chin, her cheeks, her forehead. 

“ _Rakan~ “_

Her words are light as a feather in his ear. Tilts her chin, and then she forces him to slow, taste each kiss with a languishing contentment. 

His lover might as well be a pile of jello, she is putty in his hands, powerless to his ministrations. 

“What do you need?” He inhales at the base of her throat. His body is singing, fulfilled to be with her so _. I’ll give you anything, whatever you want_. 

“Hold – “ Her voice cracks. She flushes and tries again. “No. _Snug_ me.” 

“Gladly.” Rakan would never turn down a request like this. The sheets had fallen away during their lovemaking. He pulls the blankets back in until they are swathed once more like a cocoon. The fire is still popping off to the side, their discarded clothes strewn over the couch. For laying on the floor, it was surprisingly comfortable, though he had Xayah to thank for that. The pizza too, lay forgotten in its box on the coffee table, scent carrying less as it cooled. 

“Am I too heavy?” He doesn’t wish to put too much pressure on her if it was uncomfortable. 

“No. Less talk. More snug.” Xayah feels relaxed and weighted, her very voice showing her drowsiness. She presses down on his upper back with flat palms, hugging into him with warm, heavy limbs. “I love you honey. Thank you for being so sweet.” 

“You deserve it.” He mumbles it against her skin. _Xayah does deserve it. She works hard, and she has done so much for me_ . His heart is overflowing with gooey, turbulent emotions. Willing them away with a swallow, he presses another peck to the outer edge of her forehead. “Stay with me.” 

“Always.” Xayah promises. 

He nudges his chin to rest over the top of her head and fully relaxes into her. Her nails lightly trace patterns over his back, itching where his feathers are slowly regrowing, and it lulls him quickly into a contented sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four isn't finished yet so feel free to comment what you want to have happen. Do you want them to make love again? Do you want them to bathe together? Do you just want them to get dressed and finally decorate that damn cake? Anything is free real estate at this point. ; ) 

**Author's Note:**

> Rakan is a sweetie, he's got some plans.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
